But You're the Bad Guy!
by Madden Lee Brown
Summary: When Harry refuses Ginny, she feels as if her heart has broken, but years later his impending marriage to Cho destroys her. Desperate, she turns to the one person - enter Draco Malfoy - she thinks can change Harry's mind, but can Ginny learn to seduce Harry before being seduced herself? Post Hogwarts
1. Heart's A Mess

**Love Is Overrated**

Disclaimer: I own nothing with the exception of this plot. Characters and the general wizarding world belong to the brilliant J.K. Rowling.

Chapter 1 Heart's A Mess

"Harry?" I whisper, cracking the door open slightly. "Harry, it's me."

There's no answer, except the howling of the wind against the burrow's tattered walls. A clock chimes as it strokes 3 AM. The air is cool and I inhale the rich scent of old cloth and books. Light walls appear ghostly in the night, covered randomly with portraits and pictures of genuine contentment. Cracks in the wooden floor are black with dust and dirt. It creaks in elevated moans, but doesn't scare me. The burrow is at rest and I'm disturbing the night.

The bedroom I peer into is completely dark, but I know he has to be in there. Unsatisfied, I stomp my foot.

An elaborate design of bright flowers shower my aqua-colored robe. Tugging it tighter around my waist, I shudder in the dark hallway before whispering loudly, "Harry!"

A resounding snore answers me. I roll my eyes and sigh. _Good lord! Is he deaf?_

Putting my back to the wall, I slide down, resting my head on my knees. I contemplate my other options again. Fred and George? Definitely not! They'd tease me and make the situation worse. Ron? Sleeps like a log. Impossible to wake. Just like Harry, apparently. Mum? She'd kill me. Bill is snuggled up with Fleur. And well… Percy's room is empty these days.

I knew I was being ridiculous, but the thing could fly! Giving up, I decide it's going to be a long night on the couch. I drag my feet down the hallway and stomp down the stairs. Besides, if I can't sleep, nobody should be able to.

As I reach the bottom, I notice light flickering on the wall. It's toasty warm thanks to the fire that's raging in the front room. That's odd. I thought everybody was asleep.

"Dad?" I whisper, in case he's asleep in the recliner. It's old and broken and Lord knows Mum complains about the ratty thing enough, but Dad's determined to keep it. The thought makes me smile to myself.

I inch closer and Harry's head pops into view, "Hey, Gin. It's just me. Why are you up?"

Blushing is one of the downsides to being a redhead, and if ever there were a redhead, it's me. My hair shines like fire, elaborating the freckles that shower my nose and cheeks. I despise both my red hair and my pale freckled skin. Only after many years of using spells to erase them did I relinquish the idea that it was even remotely possible.

"Harry!" I exclaim, surprised, trying to cover my reddening cheeks. "I was actually just trying to wake you. I thought you were upstairs in Ron's room."

"Eck! Have you heard your brother snore?"

I laugh and sit down on the sofa to his right. "Just did, actually."

Harry's eyebrows come together, "Oh yeah, what did you need me for?"

Remembering my predicament, I close my robe more tightly around me and shiver. "There's a bug in my room and I think it flew onto my bed."

Harry crosses his arms, "You were waking me up because there's a bug in your room?"

I stand up, annoyed that Harry is undermining the seriousness of the situation. "It's as big as my head! A roach, Harry! I can't sleep while there's a roach in my bed."

Laughter echoes through the room. I narrow my eyes.

"You alright, there, Gin?"

"Why?" I spit out.

"Well, you're turning red," he laughs harder.

I give him the best you're-an-arse glare I can muster. "I could say the same to you. Ever planning on coming up for air?"

"Oh, come now…" Harry grins. "Don't be angry."

I love Harry's smile. It makes my knees tremble. Unable to stop it, the corners of my lips begin to lift. "You know I couldn't ever really be mad at you."

Harry has a way of making everybody around him feel good. My family's loved him even before they met him. Our parents were friends before they- well, passed away.

As if he knows what I'm thinking, I notice Harry's eyes changing. Changing to something I've never seen before. Darker and even more beautiful than before. I can't pull myself away from those luminous green orbs. I feel the tension in the air growing as we stare at one another.

I've wanted him so badly, for so long. Could it finally be my time? My blood is shrieking with excitement and my heart is pounding in my chest with a vigor that almost hurts. I inwardly beg him to kiss me. I feel my body leaning forward. Is he moving, too?

Harry clears his throat and I'm jolted from my trance.

It's a betrayal. I feel like Harry threw me off the mountain because there wasn't enough room at the top for both of us. Maybe it was just me. But maybe it wasn't?

"Harry?" I whisper.

That smile I love is gone now. "Yeah?"

"I want to tell you something I've been thinking a lot about lately." I maintain eye contact, wanting back on the peak. With him.

Running a hand through his dark hair, Harry smiles at me, "Sure. You can tell me anything, Gin." He glances back up at me, but before I can utter a syllable, he dips his head and looks very seriously at me, "You're like a sister to me."

_Ouch. _

I reposition myself so that I'm sitting on my knees, taller than him. The extra height makes me feel stronger.

"I don't want to be like a sister to you, Harry." I'm proud how clearly I say it, but I still worry I sound like a fool.

I'm acutely aware that Harry's skin is developing a light sheen of sweat. His adams apple moves in his throat as he takes a deep gulp. I don't know what it is about that, but I suddenly feel flushed all over.

"What do you mean?" he asks.

This is it. I was climbing to the top whether he offered a hand or not. I lift my head and square my shoulders. "I think I love you, Harry Potter."

As if in pain, Harry's face scrunches up, "No! No, Ginny. Don't say that."

I watch him stand up and pace across the room. My voice is trapped low in my belly. I struggle to suck in air.

"But I have to say it! It has to be said!" He turns into a blur as my eyes begin to water. I loathe crying in front of people, so I quickly wipe my moist eyes with the back of my hands.

Turning to me, Harry looks at me as if he has to tell me I'm dying. I feel like I might be.

"Ginny, you're great. You really are, but you don't even know what you're saying. You don't love me. You're too young to even know what love is!"

"I do! I do love you!" I can't hold it back any longer. My cheeks are wet and warm. I try to turn away, my nose threatening to drip if I don't give myself away and sniffle.

I contemplate running, but Harry is down on his knees before me. My heart aches as he wipes away my tears with his thumbs.

"Hey," he whispers. "It's okay. I know you think your heart's breaking, but it's not, Gin. It's just a little bruised. And it'll heal before you know it. I don't want to hurt you."

Wrapping his arms around me, Harry holds my stiff body. We remain like this until my face is dry and sticky. My muscles give way and I surrender to his arms. I don't really find comfort in his arms, but I'm too weak to care.

I can't stand it anymore. I shrug out of his embrace, "Sorry. I don't know what I was thinking."

He thinks I'm angry. I can tell he's worried, but I can't bring myself to reassure him. I know in a moment he'll try to fix this. I also know it can never be fixed.

"Hey, don't even worry about it." Standing up, Harry gestures for me to follow, "C'mon. Let's go get that monster in your room."

"Bug," I whisper.

* * *

I didn't get any sleep. I feel chained by disappointment and my heart- well, it's a bloody mess. Last night it was a rollercoaster soaring downhill. Today it's at a standstill. Stuck in one place, unable to move forward. I keep wondering if there's a spell that can fix a malfunctioning heart. If not a spell, perhaps a medication? Muggles have an array of mind-altering drugs.

In all honesty, Harry was perfectly nice. I know I shouldn't be angry, but my pride is wounded.

The whistle of the train shakes me from my thoughts.

"Mum, you have to let go now. I have to get on the train." I look around, clasped tightly to my mother, trying to avoid the stares of classmates finding the display humorous.

Using my eyes to the best of my ability, I begin pleading with Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil to save me. They only wave, smiling and blowing pretend kisses my way. Traitors!

Tears dripping from her chin, Mum sniffs and gives me one last good squeeze before having to let go again, "I just can't believe that you're in your sixth year now. I'll miss you so much this year. My little girl…"

I scowl, "I'm not a little girl anymore!" _Why does everybody keep saying that!_

Steadying myself, I give kiss my mother on the cheek. "I'm going to go now. I love you." I make a quick departure, Mum yelling her goodbyes behind me. I can see her without even looking… one hand placed warmly over her heart while the other holds a tissue to her nose. She means well.

I trudge my way toward the train, mortified and outraged with the world.

Where can I sit, really? Last year I sat with Lavendar and Parvati, but they can read me like an open book. No way would I spend the entire afternoon describing the worst night of my life to the two people that will want to talk about it for a month. Who else is there? Hermione would be with Ron and Harry himself. Luna? Yes! Luna wouldn't pry.

I begin searching compartments, but can't find Luna. Michael Corner, Anthony Goldstein, and Terry Boot sit together laughing and talking about Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans. It seems Terry was just choking on a bean flavored soggy newpaper. I cringe. That one's wretched.

I move on, wondering why friends always take to threes. Not Luna. She always sat by herself, except once when Hermione and I joined her. She was a three then. The thought makes me smile. I like Luna a lot.

"Oomph!" The air is knocked out of my lungs as I fall to the floor.

"Watch where you're going, Red. I'm guessing you don't have collision insurance."

I could practically feel Malfoy's smirk. Rolling my eyes, I begin to get up, but find that I'm being lifted by the waist. I never noticed before how large Malfoy's hands were. His slender fingers grasp my hips, resting there once I'm on my feet.

"Yes, well, you shouldn't be surprised seeing as how you're standing in the middle of the walkway." I brush the tendrils that fell from my bun back and look up at him. _Woah._ My eyes widen slightly as I take in my blond nemesis. Draco Malfoy looks… different. He appears taller and fuller, his shoulders wide and his jaw pronounced above a strong neck. I lick my lips, finding my tongue to be dry.

Laughing, Malfoy releases me and turns away. _That's it?_ I think. I wait a moment longer for another snide comment, but his attention is elsewhere now. I hear Pansy Parkinson walking toward us and understand. She's changed, too. I hate admitting it, but Parkinson is attractive now. Somehow.

I walk around them. _Did I just hear Malfoy _laugh_? _Draco Malfoy didn't laugh, he snorted or hissed or smirked or snickered. He didn't laugh. The day was getting weirder by the minute. And where is Luna!

* * *

The dark blue school robes fit loosely on my petite frame. I'm used to it, though. Every Weasley has hand-me-downs, so I don't take it personally that my robes even smell like my older brother, Percy. But he was so tall! Grabbing a handful of cloth, I pull gently to pick up the bit gathering at my ankles. I take one last look in the restroom mirror and promise myself to try these things on ahead of time next year. I admit I'm not the tallest of girls.

As I exit the loo I hear Harry's laugh in the compartment to the right. I freeze and listen.

"No, she didn't!" Ron chuckles.

"Don't say anything!" Harry pleads, amusement evident in his voice, "She'd hate me for telling you."

Hermione huffs, "Stop it! The both of you! It's not funny. She's probably devastated. Poor Ginny."

The room begins to spin. I feel dizzy and nauseated. _"Poor Ginny."_ Yes, poor, pathetic Ginny. My lungs feel as if they are twisting and squeezing the air out of my body; my throat closes. I can't even cry out. I have a sudden desire to find an open window and jump out.

I back up and smack into a compartment door. I vaguely realize it's giving way, but I want to escape, so I don't care. The world around me has become hazy as I sit, hands braced on my knees. The door is a blurry rectangle before me, the only thing separating me from Harry in the other compartment… making a mockery of me.

_How dare he?_ I think. _Why am I letting this get to me? I've been possessed by Voldemort and I lived through it! I can certainly live through this!_

A cough echoes throughout the compartment, awakening me from my silent agony.

I lift my face up to meet my intruder. I'm not at all surprised to see Malfoy again. I know my tear-streaked face, red, runny nose, and messy hair tells him the story of my defeat. But that's the good thing about being defeated. It's already over, so it just doesn't matter anymore.

He sits on the opposite side of the compartment, his ankle on his knee and a book in his hands. To my surprise, I watch him lift a pair of muggle glasses from his face. _He looks nice like that_, I think to myself, before mentally trampling the thought to death.

"Aren't you going to tell her to_ get out_?"

Only then do I realize Pansy standing at the window, closing her robes over… virtually nothing but her knickers!

The blood rushes to my face and I can only assume I look like a walking tomato. _This isn't happening._

Malfoy stands, holding his book at his hip. He gives me that all too familiar once over. "She can stay. We'll leave."

I'm too shocked and mortified to protest.

"Why should _we_ leave?" Pansy scoffs, but Malfoy's already opening the door and stepping out.


	2. The Daily Prophet

**Love is for fools.**

Disclaimer: Ownin' nothin' but the plot, thanks.

Chapter 2: The Daily Prophet

_Ten Years Later_

"No, Lavendar, I can't just introduce you to the entire Puddlemere United team," I laugh, shaking my head. "Besides, you've got the wrong team."

My best friend's disappointed moan made me pull the telephone away from my ear. "Then who are you interviewing?"

I sigh and glance down at the paperwork before me, "Erm… the seeker from that Luxembourg team, the Bigonville Bombers."

"Can I meet _him_?"

Grinning, I exclaim, "No! "

"Ginevra Weasley!" Lavendar huffs, "You hog all the hotties! What's the point in having a best friend who works for _The Daily Prophet_ if I never get anything out of it? I should at least get to meet somebody famous!"

Leaning back into my chair, I roll my eyes and tap my fingernails on my new desk. "Lavendar, I only started last week! _I _still haven't met anybody famous! And I'm sorry. Should I retire as your best friend then?" I giggle, imagining Lavendar's pouty face.

She sighs and I can hear the smile in her voice, "No. I guess not."

"Good, because I need you. Being lonely is way overrated."

The line becomes silent for a moment and I twirl the cord, thinking how lucky I am.

"So… Could you maybe give him my number or Floo location?"

"I've got to go now."

"But you didn-"

"Some of us have to work, Lav."

"Just tel-"

"Bye!"

I hang up the phone just in time for my assistant – yes, I have an assistant now! – to hand me a stack of papers.

"Mr. Cuffe wanted you to read up on the Bombers' members before the interview."

I nod curtly, putting on my work face, "Of course. Thank you, Lizzy."

Lizzy Hall is a sweet girl, but she's too serious for being only 20. She gets the job done, nevertheless, so I'm pretty fond of her. I notice she's still standing in front of me and look up from the manila folder. "Anything else?"

Flipping her blonde hair behind her shoulder, she taps her chin. "Mr. Cuffe wanted me to tell you to focus on somebody, but I can't remember his name. I assume it's the man you're interviewing. The seeker… What _is_ that name?"

"Well, it should be in here, right? Don't worry about it. Thank you, Lizzy."

At her dismissal, she shrugs and walks out of my office.

My good mood threatens to dissipate as I notice just how thick this folder is, but I'm too hyped up to worry. My first interview is tomorrow morning and I'm a nervous wreck, but willing to put in the time. All-nighters aren't new to me; I'll be prepared.

I take Mr. Cuffe's suggested questions and tear them in half. They're boring. I want to be the reporter _The Daily Prophet_ has never had. Picking up my quill, I write "Interview Questions" at the top of some parchment and move to open the folder.

"Oh!" Lizzy's head peeks back through the doorway. "It's Malfoy, I think."

Sometimes I think I need to get my hearing checked, "Who?"

"Malfoy?"

The blood drains from my face. "_Draco_ Malfoy?"

"Yes! That's it!" Lizzy nods. "_Draco_ Malfoy. Doesn't sound like a Luxembourg name to me, but I'm sure that's it." Hear head disappears around the corner.

Now's about the time I let myself mentally break down.

* * *

The door is thrown open before I even reach it. In it stands a red-faced, short, plump woman with a flowered apron, wand sticking out of a side pocket. "Ginny! You're here!" Her cheeks puff up.

"Yup. Wouldn't miss family night for the world," We both know that's the furthest thing from the truth. "Hey, Mum." I hug her tightly and let her lead me inside.

"Mollywobbles, is that Ginny?" Dad calls from the kitchen. "I didn't think she was coming."

"I've got her!"

Okay, I deserved that. I hadn't exactly shown for the last two months, but I was swamped with work. Being an intern for the Daily Prophet is much worse than actually having a real job there. At least, that's what I was noticing.

Ron and Hermione are already seated at the table, little Rose nestled in her mother's lap. I pause in the doorway for a moment and laugh; Hermione is slapping Ron's hand away from her plate.

"You know, you shouldn't steal your wife's food when she's eating for two," I say.

Ron's head shoots up and Rose jumps off Hermione's lap and throws herself at me. "Auntie! Auntie!"

Picking her up, I lovingly coo in her ear, "Hi, my little flower." She curls her hand in my hair and rests her head on my shoulder, sighing happily. It's these moments that make me love my life. Since I wasn't really good at much else, I figured I could at least be a great aunt. The day Rose was born, I promised myself that she'd love me.

"I wasn't stealing her food," Ron whines, "I was teaching Rose the value of sharing!"

My eyebrow arches, "Is that so?"

Hermione braces her hands on the table and lifts herself, her pregnant belly curving her back in, "Oh, just let him have it, Gin. Supper'll be on the table any moment." She wobbles over to me and a big kiss graces my cheek.

It's enjoyable teasing my brother in front of his wife. My inner demon jumps up and down. "Oh, I see, Ron. You're the bad example so that Hermione can show Rose what the right thing to do is."

Ron sticks his tongue out at me. _So juvenile!_ I stick my tongue back out at him.

"Oh, for goodness sake! You'd think you were both about in your knickers again, fighting over who poked who first!" Mum carries a dish with steaming shepherd's pie out and places it in the center of the table. My mouth waters. All I've had today is a cup of tea at break.

Nudging me, Hermione looks into the front room. "Ginny, come set her down with me?"

The pie smells so good my stomach rumbles. I look back at it and know Ron is ready to attack. Praying there'll be some left when I get back, Hermione and I walk into the living room side by side, Rose heavy on my hip.

"Ginny, I've got something to tell you. Ron thought it would be best if I let it be, but I don't want you caught off guard."

At that, I remember my own news. "I've got something to tell you, too. You _won't_ believe it." And she wouldn't. The knowledge is chomping at the bit, ready to claw its way out of my mouth if I keep it myself any longer.

"Oh yeah?"

I nod my head, eyes wide. "Definitely."

Rose squirms as Hermione takes her from me. Laying her gently on the couch, she pulls a blanket to her shoulders and kisses her forehead. "You first, then."

Without realizing I'm doing it, I help Hermione stand straight and wrap my arm through hers. I always tried to assist her during her last pregnancy, so I guess it's habit. We begin to walk back. "I got my first interview today."

Relief fills Hermione's face, "That's great, Gin!" I don't think she really thought I'd get the job.

"Yeah, that's what I thought, too."

She squints, "It's not great?"

Tugging her to a sudden halt, I push my face close to hers and whisper, "It's _Malfoy_."

Shock explodes across Hermione's chubby face. "But I thought he died in the war. He just sort of… disappeared."

"I know!" I throw my hands up and head toward the kitchen again. "Turns out he's been in Luxembourg."

"No way!" Hermione gasps.

A loud bang resonates through the hall and we turn to the fireplace. _About _time, I think. Harry steps out, covered in powder and ash. He's taller now, but looks so much like the boy I knew from Hogwarts.

"Who's been in Luxembourg?" he asks.

Leave it to Harry to hear everything. I don't mind, though. I jump on the opportunity to taunt him, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Harry grins at me and my heart flutters. Unfortunately, that still happens. Crossing his arms, he narrows his eyes mischievously. "Try me."

My heart leaps in my chest. See?

"Well for one, Lavendar is angry with you for not introducing her to your Puddlemere teammates," I say haughtily.

"Is that it? Shoot me if I don't care that your psychotic best friend is angry with me… again!"

Giggling, I shake my head.

Harry pokes me in the side. "Well don't keep me in suspense!"

By now I know I'm beaming. I try to suppress the giddiness seeping from my pores.

"Well?"

"I just found out today tha-"

Another burst of light fills the front room followed by a clang. Hermione grasps my hand and tugs. Rather hard for a pregnant woman. I'm about to look back and ask what she wants when I see a full head of long, flowing black hair emerge from the chimney. A short, petite, lithe form steps out. Slender fingers brush at perfectly squared shoulders.

I feel my hands squeezing into fists at my sides. My eyes turn to slits as I glare back at Hermione. "What is _she_ doing here?"

* * *

"_There_ you are," Harry winks at the new arrival.

I loathe her for the few seconds I'm granted before Mum pushes me out of the way.

"Harry! Cho!" She practically runs into the room, throwing out her arms in welcome. "You're just in time!"

_Great_, I pout. _Since when can guests bring girlfriends? Rude!_ But I know Harry isn't a guest. He's better at this family thing than I am. He actually showed up last month.

"Molly, I've got big news!" I notice Cho blushing as Harry says this.

Hermione pinches my arm, "Erm… Ginny?"

"Does everybody and their mother have news today?" I spit under my breath at her.

"You do?" Mum exclaims, drawing out the "do" like Harry's going to tell her she won the muggle lottery. "Ronald! Arthur! Come here! Harry's got news!"

_Unbelievable! I had news, too!_ I purse my lips and begin tapping my foot on the floor.

"Ginny!" Hermione hisses at me.

"What?" I hiss back.

"I really need to tell you so-"

Harry moves to take Cho's hand. That's when I see it. Resting ever so casually on her ring finger is a diamond bigger than the mole on Ron's arse! And that's big.

The room is spinning. I recognize this feeling. It happened right here ten years ago. My head is aching and I can no longer feel the gentle tap of my foot on the ground or my nails digging into my palms.

"Molly, Arthur," Harry's voice is distant, but it echoes in my head. "I asked Cho to…"

The ceiling comes into view before it all goes black.


	3. Pathetic

**Love is a word I'd rather not discuss.**

Disclaimer: All characters and wizard-like awesomeness belong to the infamous Mrs. Rowling. I'm just playing with what she's given us.

Chapter 3: Pathetic

"Ohhh," I moan, hand rising to my forehead. There's pressure on my shoulders forcing me to stay down and it's infuriating. Slowly, and dreading the light that I know is planning on assaulting me, I open my eyes.

It would be comical if it weren't me. I mean, how often do you wake up to six bobbing heads just inches away from your face? Ron, Hermione, Mum, Dad, Harry… _Cho_. I scowl. I forgot about her.

Suddenly, I remember exactly what she's doing here. The bride-to-be watches me with concern etched across her delicate face. I'd like to ruin that pretty little face. I'd like to-

"Oh, Ginny! You gave us such a scare!" Mum swats at everybody to back off so she can get closer. Her breath smells like shepherds pie. _Did they eat without me! _

"What happened?" I ask, though I already know the answer.

"You don't eat enough, that's what!" Molly Weasley pinches her lips together before pressing a cold compress to my forehead. She really has a knack for contradicting herself. "What did I tell you, Ginevra?"

"Uh…"

I sit up as she walks away, tossing the wet rag across her shoulder and mumbling to herself, "Always working. Never comes to see her family anymore! Hardly eats! I don't even know why I try! Doesn't take care of herself…"

The woman goes from concerned to angry faster than the speed of light. Eh, that's my mother.

As soon as she leaves the room, Harry and Ron grab my arms and lift me up. I hear Hermione whispering in the corner, "No, love. Auntie's not going to die."

"Blimey!" Ron shakes his head.

"You took a hard fall, Gin. You okay?" Harry's hand is on the small of my back and I fight the urge to smack it away. _Pig._

"I'm fine."

"Would you like some water?" Cho's voice is soft and low.

Even though she's done nothing wrong, I can't help being short with her. "No."

What exactly does Cho have that I don't? Besides the long legs and tiny waist. And maybe the shiny long hair and full chest… And perfectly rounded hips. _Bitch._ My inner demon demands vengeance.

At that moment, Rose races to me and wraps her arms around my legs. "Auntie, are you dead?"

I peer down at her and smile, "No, I'm as alive as can be. If I weren't, I couldn't do _this_…!" Reaching down, I tickle Rose until her face turns red from laughing. That little girl always lifts my spirits.

"Are you sure you don't need anything?" Hermione asks.

My body is sore and I know there'll be evidence of my fall protruding from my head in the morning, but there isn't much anybody can do about that. "I am a little thirsty. I could use a glass of water."

Signaling to my brother, Hermione points to the kitchen. "Ron, get Ginny some water."

"What? Why do I have to do it? You're the one that asked!" _Some brother_, I think.

"Ronald Weasley!" Hermione barks.

Before they begin bickering, I decide to cut in. "Don't worry about it. I should go home, anyway. I've still got work to do before tomorrow."

In the kitchen, Mum and Dad are discussing Harry's impending marriage. Dad's reassuring her that Cho's a good girl. Dad sees the best in everybody.

"I know that, Arthur. I just… Is she really right for Harry?"

Hmm. Maybe I don't give my mother enough credit.

"Hey," they immediately stop speaking and look up. "I'm going to go home now. I've got a busy day tomorrow."

"Oh, are you sure? You haven't even eaten yet. I made you a plate."

I check the time and see that it's getting late. "Can I take it with me?"

The look I'm getting from my parents is one of sympathy. If Harry hadn't made his announcement today, they wouldn't be going so easy on me.

Nodding, Mum moves to bring me the wrapped-up plate. "Sure, dear. But it's dark out. Take the floo."

I leave quickly. Their thoughts make me out to be pathetic.

* * *

"Girl, now I _know_ that _that_ is not organic."

Cam, my roommate for two years now, is from America. He sounds funny, but he's actually pretty intelligent. I met him three years ago at an art show in London. His muggle interest in the "paranormal" attracted him to me. I guess he could sense the magic in me. Some muggles seem to notice these things. I don't know _why_ I let him move in. He drives me mad!

"Well?"

I sit the plate down on the counter and shrug out of my jacket. "Well what?"

Placing his hands on his hips, Cam swings his head to the side, "Are you going to answer my question?"

"You didn't ask a question."

"Woah! Woah."

"Don't be such a drama queen." I move toward my bedroom, flinging my hair out of its bun.

He thrusts his arm out to block me. "Oh no you don't, sugarplum. You best sit down and tell me what's going on up in that head."

I look to the floor, not sure if I'm ready to discuss it. But then, Cam has a way of listening to my problems like they're actually important. "Ugh. It's been a bad day."

Sitting back down, Cam pats the seat beside him and rests his chin in his palms. "I see."

I sit. "Mhm."

"Well?"

"What!"

"_Girl_!"

"Sorry." I pause and take a deep breath. "The love of my life is getting married."

"Oh, Henry?"

"Harry," I correct.

"Right."

"And to top it off, I have to interview the person that tormented me in school." I lean back into the sofa and wrap my arms around my head. "I mean, this guy made me cry myself to sleep."

"What's he look like?"

Removing my arms, I give my over-eager roomie the death glare. "Really, Cam?"

"Just curious. My bad."

"Yeah, your bad," I laugh. "You muggle Americans say some very odd things."

Cam's mouth falls open , "You British witch people need my muggle American sense of style."

I mimic him and hold out my arms to get a better look at my snuggly knit sweater. "What's wrong with this?"

"You sure you want to ask?"

The last time I asked Cam what he thought of my clothing, he took my feelings in his overgrown bear hands like a piece of paper and shredded it. "Pass."

For a moment, we're both content to just sit in silence. I lay my head on Cam's shoulder and he awkwardly pats my head.

"You're not going to put that pesticide playground in our fridge, right?"

_Leave it to Cam_, I think. I stand up and intentionally step on his foot as I pass by. On the way to my room, I knock the plate into the trashcan. "I've got work to do."

* * *

Mornings like this are the reason I forget sometimes what's so great about having a job. With eyelids that keep threatening to close on me and no desire to be here, there's not a doubt in my mind that I'm not going to brief myself before the interview. But it isn't like I need it after a night of reading 150 pages on why Draco Malfoy is the sexiest man alive. _Please!_

I hear the click-clacking of Lizzy's heels down the hall. Like clockwork she's at my door, right on time to rouse me. "Coffee?"

My head shoots up, "Angel." The aroma of the steaming black liquid is so enticing I almost stick my nose in it, the cup greedily gripped between both my hands.

"Mr. Malfoy will be here in thirty minutes," Lizzy states matter-of-factly while pulling a paperclip from my forehead. I can only imagine there's a paperclip shaped indent somewhere above my brow.

My eyes remain closed as I take my first sip. "Don't ruin this for me."

Lizzy shifts her weight from one foot to the other. "Er… yes, Ma'am. Is there anything else I can get you?"

"Another eight hours of sleep."

"Something possible, perhaps?"

I inhale sharply, my lips slowly curving upwards. "Why, Miss Hall, did you just…?"

Looking haughty and happy with herself, Lizzy stands up straighter, "You're not the only one that can be witty, Ms. Weasley."

"Well, I'm impressed," I say, returning to my coffee.

Lizzy hovers again, but I ignore her. Last time she hovered something bad happened. "If I may be so bold, you're… um, shoes?"

I'm wounded. I love my moccasins! I've got four pairs. "Yes, they're shoes, Lizzy. What of it?"

"Right. Well, you've got two different _shoes_ on, then."

Horrified, I glance down at my feet to find she's right! One is brown and the other a navy blue. I can't see Malfoy like this! Panic ensues. I launch out of my seat, pushing over the much-loved coffee while I'm at it and splattering it all over my pants.

Lizzy quickly jumps in with a tiny napkin that could hardly absorb a drop, let alone an entire cup of liquid. "Don't worry, Ms. Weasley."

"Don't worry!" I stare at her incredulously. "Lizzy! I look like a fool!"

Bending her knee and reaching behind her, she removes a red stiletto heel. "You can wear mine for the interview."

"They don't match what I'm wearing, though." Despite Lizzy's kindness, I'm still freaking out. Not to mention I'm clumsy as it is. Add six inches and I'm doomed! "And look at this. It's going to stain!"

"Then I guess it's a good thing we're about the same size."

I do the once over on Lizzy and freeze. It's true, I didn't like her in the beginning; Lizzy Hall is the type of woman you assume didn't earn the job because of her dizzying intellect. Let's just put it this way: when my mother met her, she couldn't stop blushing. My chest constricts in panic again while I take in the clingy red dress she's wearing. "Isn't there some spell we can use?"

Her tone offers a swift slap of reality, "What are your other options? You've got," she pauses to look at her watch, "twenty-four minutes now."

_Blast!_ Cam is on laundry duty at home this week, meaning it hasn't been done. I'm wearing the only "clean" thing I've got. Would it be worth going home just for a matching shoe? Yes! "Lizzy, hold down the fort. I'll be back."

"Suit yourself," she shrugs, putting that death trap back on her foot. "Should I interview Mr. Malfoy myself when he arrives?"

With my finger, I flip the folder open and read _Luxembourg: Three time champions!_ on the header of an article. "Fine!"

"Ma'am?"

I sigh in defeat and begin unbuttoning my blouse. "Close the door."

* * *

Sitting at my now nice, clean desk, I place a piece of parchment and quill before me. I cross my legs, but quickly uncross them as I feel the clingy red fabric slip down my thigh. I nervously reread my interview questions.

"Ms. Weasley?" Lizzy knocks on the door and announces, "Mr. Malfoy is here."

I stand, still looking through my notes, "Send him in, Lizzy."

Looking up, I see that Malfoy is already standing before me. My stomach drops. I bite my cheek to keep my mouth from falling open.

The articles, blogs, fan pages, websites… they were all right. Draco Malfoy is unquestionably the sexiest man alive. His eyes are liquid silver. I want to swim in them. His hair is long like his father's, pale blond. _So soft_, I think. My fingers twitch, wanting to run through it. I recognize the sharp contours of his face, his fine bones and hard jaw. I hate this man.

He holds his hand out to me, "Ms. Weasley. I believe we've already met."

_Understatement of the year._ I ignore his hand and nod my head in acknowledgment.

Lizzy squirms in the doorway. Her stare of approval isn't lost on me. I remind myself that rolling my eyes isn't professional. "Anything else, Miss Hall?"

"Oh. Um, Mr. Cuffe's revision," she hands me a folder and, before she leaves, smiles at Malfoy. I wonder if she remembers she's wearing my clothes.

Taking the folder, I open it and glance inside at a list of questions. This means Mr. Cuffe either didn't approve of the interview I had planned or wanted to add something. I hope it's the latter. A part of me is slightly insulted. I remember delivering these to Rita Skeeter before she was "dismissed." She had a tendency to throw them away.

"Very well. Should we begin, Mr. Malfoy?" I ask, gesturing for him to sit down in the seat across from me.

His laugh fills the room, "You don't have to be so formal with me, Ginevra." He closes the door behind him.

I gesture to the seat again. He smirks and places both hands flat on my desk, leaning over me, "It's been a long time. How have you been?"

Irritated, I stand in an attempt to take control of the situation. In war, never give the opponent the upper hand. Even with these ridiculous heels, he still stands a few inches above me. "_Mr._ Malfoy, may we begin now, please?"

He straightens and I follow his eyes as they move down my body, "Of course."

When we're both finally seated, I clear my throat and grab my quill. His eyes – full of amusement – never leave me. My entire body is tingling. "So… How long have you been with the Bigonville Bombers?"

"Four years now."

I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn't. I should have known he'd be difficult to interview. "You attended Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, yes?"

Lifting an eyebrow, his expression tells me he's not impressed. "You know I did."

Sighing heavily, I explain, "Yes, well, I have to ask." Shuffling the papers before me, I glance at one of Cuffe's questions. "What inspired you to go to Luxembourg?"

"My mother has family in Luxembourg. Before the war, she insisted that we leave. As you know, my father's allegiance was to Voldemort. My mother, too frightened to confront him, asked me to join her and together we fled to Luxembourg."

_Bologna_. The war was a tough time for everybody and Malfoy's disappearance frustrates me. I'm not going to let him get away with some cookie-cutter answer. "Your mother has family in Luxembourg? I thought all the Blacks lived here."

He shifts in his seat, completely relaxed. "You thought wrong."

_Bastard. _I shove Cuffe's questions aside. "Do you not feel guilty for running during the war, rather than staying and fighting?"

"Not at all."

I can feel the blood rushing to my face. "People died while you ran away."

"You think me a coward, Weasley? My father spent my entire life as a Death Eater. I didn't want that." Despite the harsh content of his words, Malfoy remained calm and never raised his voice. That just made me even angrier.

"You didn't seem to mind it so much in school."

He crosses his arms before speaking, "Yes, well, not everything is so black and white."

"Isn't it? You, black. Me, white. Seems pretty simple to me."

"Simple, eh? You think my life was that easy?"

I scoot up in my chair and plan to do damage. "Maybe it was just the silver spoon sticking out of your mouth."

He doesn't speak for a long time, but I want his response, so I wait.

"No amount of money can account for _this_." Lifting his sleeve, I see Voldemort's mark practically rising from his flesh. "I didn't have a choice, Weasley. My parents weren't as loving as yours."

We'd all suspected Draco Malfoy would follow in his father's footsteps, but I suppose a part of me didn't believe it. I reach out, as if to touch it, but swiftly retract my hand and hold it to my chest.

"I- I'm…" I stutter.

"You're what?" For the first time, Malfoy sounds mad. Livid. That type of contained anger frightens me. He reminds me of a snake, tranquil and still before a swift attack.

"Excuse me." Without knowing how to respond, I leave Malfoy alone in my office.


End file.
